


Step Out Into The Sun

by sian_jpg



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (kind of), 2016, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phan Fluff, Phanfiction, TATINOF, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 20:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian_jpg/pseuds/sian_jpg
Summary: "when a house is bought"or, the one where there's something about sitting in an airport on the other side of the world that causes dan to make impulsive important life decisions - circa TATINOF australia, august 2016.(title from 'without you' by oh wonder)





	Step Out Into The Sun

It’s ironic – the first time they talk about it, they’re the furthest from home they’ve ever been.

They’re waiting for a plane, _because they’re always waiting for a plane these days_ , and it could be to Sydney or Melbourne or Adelaide, Dan isn’t sure. At this point he’s lost count of the seemingly countless cities they’ve visited in the past year, and Phil’s promised yet practically non-existent fridge magnet collection can’t help him now. 

The only thing his so weary, so somnolent, so very tired brain can figure out is that it’s Australia - and that it’s hot and humid and so very far away from home.

And, of course, a drop bear could kill them at any second.

( _“I still can’t believe you actually fell for that.”_ Dan grins cheekily, later; head nestled into Phil’s shoulder as they lie in the hotel bed, spontaneously searching for koala meetings at a nearby zoo the crew told them about.)

( _“You’re the worst person in the world.”_ Phil shakes his head, pretending to put all his attention into the zoo website and pretending to be annoyed when Dan takes control of the laptop to search for “funny koala vines” instead.)

Phil’s “freshening up” in the airport toilets, fresh from teasing Dan about not spraying deodorant into any of his most important organs, fresh from Dan ineffectually punching him in the arm and ineffectually trying his hardest not to break out into a smile. 

He stares blankly at his phone for a bit, immersing himself in other people’s lives - but then he takes a moment, takes a breath, glances at the little girl opposite staring at him shyly as her exasperated parents desperately search for their boarding passes.

She smiles a little before heading into deep conversation with a well-loved cuddly lion, _because of course it’s a lion_ , and Dan feels the softest, tiniest tug in his chest.

Not yet.  
One day.

When a house is bought.

And then Dan thinks of the flat waiting back home for them. More specifically, he thinks of how it’s just a little bit falling apart; he thinks of the cracks in the kitchen tiles and the scratch marks on the walls and the despondent - _“we’re never going to get our deposit back, are we?”_ \- as Phil spills another coffee, causes another permanent stain. 

He thinks of how he hasn’t seen his bedroom floor in three months because it’s been swamped with open suitcases flooding with crumpled up clothes. He thinks of the incessant drills starting up as soon as they switch on the camera, the endless stairs that act as their only exercise when they’re not performing sold out stage shows across the world every night, and the glass kitchen door that’s well worn with lovely imprints of both their faces. 

He also thinks of how Phil keeps complaining about how they can’t keep the Dil head in his room because it freaks him out at night, and how vocally uncomfortable he is having sex with the decapitated nightmare of their virtual son’s skull staring at them.  
An admittedly niche problem, he’ll admit, but a problem nonetheless.

( _“I’ll protect you, babe.”_ They’re back home for a few weeks, procrastinating from unpacking, lounging on Phil’s ugly wicker bed like they never left. Dan laughs and Phil hits him with a pillow.)

( _“Yeah right.”_ He says, blue eyes sparking with amusement. _“You’d be useless! You’d probably just use me a human meat shield.”_ )

And then Phil’s walking back, eyes slightly glazed over from the seemingly permanent state of jetlag they live in now, all glasses and messy hair ( _“it’s the humidity!”_ ) and stubble, and Dan thinks about how sad everyone will be if they move. He thinks of what their little London flat means to them, and how it would be really hard to leave it – and the past four years they’ve called it home - behind. 

It just suits them, he supposes – it’s cosy and comfortable and the perfect microcosm of their mad little intertwined lives and what it all means. It’s their home.

But, of course, that’s it, isn’t it - it suits them _now_. It suits the worldwide tour and the two book deal and the YouTube Red shows and the impossible year of 2016. It suits Dan and Phil™. 

He’s not sure if it suits Dan Howell and Phil Lester, maybe not anymore. Maybe not now, because they’ve changed and grown and come so far they’re struggling to find space to fit their obnoxiously tall selves into their cramped little city centre flat, let alone a mountain of props and suitcases and IKEA furniture that’s falling apart.

“Dan? Ready to go?”  
“I think we should move.”

He just sort of blurts it out without thinking, and it’s partly the jet lag and it’s mostly the serene harmony of drills and miscellaneous bus noises waiting for them when they get back home.

“Well, yeah, people just started boarding so we should probably-“  
“No-“ Dan pauses, takes another breath. 

“I mean...I think we should move to new place. When we get back, like - next year, when this is all over and done with and we’re out of our intensive sleep comas.” 

He expects Phil to raise an eyebrow, to wearily shrug it off, to at least ask where that big idea is coming from all of sudden as he opens his mouth - but instead he just closes it again and smiles softly. 

“Yeah, okay. Makes sense.”  
“Wait, really?”  
“Dan, the flat is literally falling apart and there’s like no space or storage for anything.” He sleepily pushes his glasses up his nose. 

“You know I love it, but we’ve been there for like, a gazillion years. I think it’s probably time for a new hamster cage.”  
“So you really want to do this?”

Phil grins excitedly, gives Dan his hand to pull him out of the uncomfortable plastic airport seat he’s been slouched in, squeezing it fondly just quickly enough for no-one around to really notice. 

“I’ve been scrolling through and bookmarking places for weeks; I just didn’t want to tell you ‘till we got back so you didn’t freak out on me or something. We can, uh, look at them on the plane if you want?”

“Yeah, that’d be...great.” Dan stares fondly at his always organised, future-planning, weird property show loving boyfriend, and thinks of a house. A new, actual house.

More specifically, a house and a dog and a koi pond and maybe, one day, a well loved cuddly lion in a pastel yellow bedroom with a big window for plenty of sunlight to stream through. Small and quaint and cosy maybe, on the outskirts of the city, with a small garden and a good nursery five minutes down the road. The house that’s waiting for them.

Not that Dan’s given it much thought, of course.

( _“One day, Phil Lester, I’m going to buy you a house.”_ He says, a long time ago now, almost an age -words slightly slurred, as they lie on the carpet of their then brand new London flat, circa twenty-twelve. There’s no furniture, it’s the hottest day of the year, and they’re accompanied by an assortment of empty wine bottles.)

( _“We’re going to buy a house.”_ Phil says, staring at him with rare intensity as if he’s convinced Dan might disappear if he so much as blinks. Their hair is longer and their smiles are smaller and they’re more uncertain than ever. They’ve got a long way to go, and Dan wishes now more than ever that he could tell them that they’re going to make it.)

(They’re going to change and grow and come so far.)

( _“Together.”_ )

They can save the post-important life decision sex for the hotel room in Sydney or Melbourne or Adelaide. They have a flight to catch and a tour to do, an impossible life to live. 

And, eventually, a house to buy.

Not yet.  
One day.

“Oh my God.” Dan says, suddenly all serious.  
“What?”  
“I just realised, we’re actually doing this. We’re actually going to have to move.”  
“Yeah?”  
“...We’re going to be scraping off those holographic cat stickers you stuck on every surface of the house for months.” 

Phil laughs at Dan’s genuine look of horror, runs a hand through his hair.

“That’s seriously the first thing you worry ab- you know what, actually, never mind. That is going to be a nightmare, sorry.”  
“You’re a nightmare.”  
“Love you.” Phil says it casually, quietly, a tiny whispered promise.  
“Love you too.” 

Dan gets a moment of peace before he realises the air hostesses are staring at them intently and mildly impatiently as the last of the passengers filter through the gate, leaving them alone.

“Not that I don’t _love_ making weird spontaneous important life decisions in airports with you, and I would love to worry about cat stickers right now - but we are kinda going to miss our flight if we don’t board like right now so...”

“Yeah. Right, the flight.” They both shoot their best apologetic smiles at the impatient flight stewards.

“Come on then, you property show nerd – “Dan smiles fondly, with one hand resting on his suitcase handle and the other on Phil’s.  
Ready to go wherever their mad little intertwined lives are planning on taking them next. 

“- Let’s do this.”

**Author's Note:**

> what do you mean everyone already wrote about this like two months ago  
> thanks for reading! ^-^  
> you can hit me up or even just stalk me on my tumblr (@evanescent-lester) if you're so inclined - come say hi!  
> until next time x


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